Terms of Agreement

27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Charlotte

S crunching my eyes tightly shut and cursing the morning light that had filtered into the room, I willed myself to go back to sleep. Just for a few more minutes. I turned my face to burrow deeper into my pillow and away from the sunlight, breathing in a heady smokiness. But it wasn’t long before my contented smile transformed into open-mouthed horror when I registered the steady thrum of a pulse beneath my cheek. My eyes flew open to see a long, toned arm stretched out in front of me.

Crap! I took slow, shallow breaths, my body rigid as I took in my surroundings. How had this happened? Oh god, what if I’d drooled on him? My eyes scanned what I could see of his arm. No shiny spots. That was good. Gingerly, I wiggled my mouth, relieved to find no evidence of crusty dried drool. I nodded internally. Everything seemed to be okay. Well, everything except for the fact that I was sleeping on Aiden’s arm!

I took as deep a breath as I dared, trying to calm my heart, but was met by resistance across my ribs. It didn’t feel like anxiety, but after more than living with it for more than half my life, I knew not to underestimate the lengths my anxiety would go through to throw me off kilter. My heart stuttered in surprise as the band tightened around my chest and pulled me backwards and flush against a hardened chest.

I could feel a slow, rhythmic heartbeat against my shoulder blade. Holy Moly. That wasn’t anxiety crushing my ribs. Oh my god. I was the little spoon!

My breath caught in my throat as Aiden’s grip tightened, pushing the fabric of my borrowed t-shirt higher up my torso, his fingertips pressing into the underside of my breast. I felt him exhale into my neck, his body relaxing around mine, and I swallowed.

I should move. As if he could hear my thoughts, Aiden nuzzled into the curls at the base of my neck. Five minutes. I would move in five minutes.

Aiden’s thumb moved slowly back and forth over my ribs, gently caressing the underside of my breast. His continued ministrations were moving the fabric of the t-shirt and I bit my lip, embarrassingly aware that the friction of the fabric had hardened my nipple. He groaned lowly, shifting his hips to better fit against me and I couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped me when Aiden’s long, hard cock moved to press firmly against my ass.

Out! Gotta get out! I inhaled deeply, expanding my lungs within the confines of Aiden’s hold as I fought to break through the lust-fuelled spell my body had fallen under. But instead, my hips rolled backwards, reflexively, seeking the pressure and pleasure of Aiden’s length. Oh my God!

I froze at the feeling of his hips bucking softly into me. Was he awake? Heart hammering against my ribs, I waited, pushing back the feeling of disappointment when his breathing resumed its slow, regular assault against my neck and his hips stilled against mine. It was better this way. He could be dreaming of anyone. My libido shrieked that she didn’t care, but the sound of movement in the hallway brought me to my senses, dousing any lingering desire with a cold dose of reality.

I needed to get up. Thank God Aiden was asleep and hadn’t woken up to me grinding against his cock. My cheeks burned even as arousal coiled in my abdomen. Nope. I had a feeling that that probably wouldn’t go over well.

Taking a small breath, I removed Aiden’s hand from my waist, lifting his fingers from my skin one by one, pausing now and then to make sure he was still sleeping. I’d only just slid out from under the covers when a low groan came from the direction of the bed and, holding my breath, I turned to face it. Aiden’s eyes were still closed. Those unfairly long lashes fanned across his cheeks, but his mouth was pulled down into a scowl as the arm that had been wrapped around my waist swiped at the bedding. Grabbing an armful of blankets, he pulled them towards himself and buried his face in the fabric, letting out a soft sigh of content. I stood, heart in my throat and my back pressed against the wall, waiting for his body to still.

When it did, I tiptoed over to the door and slipped out. It was only when the cool air of the landing hit the back of my thighs that I realised I’d left my dress in the room. Goddamnit. My head dropped back against the door and a soft thud sounded against the wood. I tensed, but when I didn’t hear any movements coming from inside, my shoulders sagged with relief.

Chewing on my lip, I was pondering my dilemma when the muffled sounds of music drifted down the hallway. Holding down the hem of my t-shirt, I moved towards the door covered with polaroids and ticket stubs.

***

‘Thanks so much, Louise.’

She waved me off dismissively from where she lay nestled amongst her pillows. Between the two of us, we’d managed to cobble together an outfit to wear home.

‘I’m sorry they’re not a better fit,’ she said, eyeing the green woollen jumper with its too short sleeves. ‘But at least the skirt is long enough.’

I smiled at Louise from my spot in front of the mirror as I finished braiding my hair, tying off the ends with one of Louise’s pink hair elastics. ‘What do we think?’ I asked, as I turned to face my new friend, dropping my arms to my sides and looking down at the jumper/midi-skirt combo.

‘Well,’ Louise tapped her chin, ‘it’s better than the jeans-turned-culottes, but not by much.’

‘Rude!’ I laughed, picking up one of the frilly pink pillows from the floor and throwing it at Louise’s grinning face.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Louise laughed, hugging the pillow projectile to her chest and not looking sorry at all. ‘You look fine, Charlotte.’

‘Just fine?’ I turned back to the mirror, tugging at my too short sleeves.

‘What’s wrong?’ Louise straightened at the worried look on my face.

‘Nothing, it’s just…’ I’d never been introduced to a boyfriend’s parents before—none of my previous relationships had been serious enough for that. And while this thing with Aiden was fake, it turned out that the desire to make a good impression and have Aiden’s family like me was very, very real. I took a deep breath and gave Louise a small smile. ‘I’m meeting your parents…’

Louise’s face softened with understanding and, pulling herself over to the edge of the bed, she stood to stand beside me, tugging my hand away from where it was, fretting at my outfit and giving it a small squeeze. ‘You make a great impression,’ Louise said softly, sincerity ringing in her voice. ‘And you’ve already met Mum.’

‘That was in the middle of the night,’ I pointed out. ‘I don’t think it counts.’

‘Eh,’ Louise shrugged. ‘June Park is the same no matter the hour. It counts, and you did good.’ With that, she made her way over to the wardrobe to shrug a hoodie on over her pyjamas. ‘Why does it matter so much, anyway?’ Louise asked, popping out through the head hole and wiggling her arms through the sleeves.

I blew out a breath, loosening my hair and redoing the braid, hoping to restrain some of my baby hairs. ‘It just does,’ I stated, eyes focused on my fingers reflected in the mirror.

‘Uh huh.’ Louise nodded, her voice heavy with sarcasm and her smirk stretching into a grin. ‘Sure.’

‘Don’t smile at me like that,’ I muttered, my eyes darting away from Louise’s in reflection.

‘Like what?’ Louise’s eyes widened, and she blinked, feigning innocence.

‘Like the Joker, you look deranged.’

‘Charlotte,’ she said, reaching up to cup my face as she smooshed my cheeks together, ‘you will make a good impression, no matter what you wear.’

‘Thanks Louise,’ I smiled, touched by the gesture, even if it reminded me of something Nan would do. ‘Now let go before my face gets stuck like this forever.’

Louise let go of my face with a laugh.

‘I didn’t take you to be superstitious.’

‘It’s not superstition. I’m over thirty. My collagen and bounce-backability are not what they used to be.’

Louise cackled as she led the way down the stairs and towards the kitchen, leaving me to fall behind as I stopped to look at nearly every one of the picture frames that lined the hallway. I smiled at a family portrait taken when Aiden must have been about ten, Louise a bundle of squidgy pink flesh in what I’d guess were Aiden’s dad’s arms. The frames didn’t seem to be in any order, but from the looks of it, their entire lives were chronicled on these walls.

I felt a small pang of longing somewhere beneath my ribs when I passed a photo of Aiden’s graduation. It wasn’t a professional portrait. Louise had taken a selfie, half of her face and all of her smile present as Aiden was squeezed in between both of their parents, his gown a little crooked but smiling brightly at the camera.

I only had one photo from graduation, and that was only because Nan had asked one of my classmates to take one of the two of us outside of the Law building. We’d both struggled with our emotions that day, but the chasm in my chest where Mum should have been had threatened to swallow me whole. Nan had done her best to boost morale, but I’d been so focused on my own pain and loss that I hadn’t been able to pose for more than the one photo.

Blinking away the moisture threatening to spill over my lash line, I moved down the hallway, studying the photographs as I went. I knew that Mum would miss more moments in my life than she’d been able to witness, and I’d come to terms with it—mostly. But there were still moments when I’d feel that pang in my chest and wish that I could call Mum. But I had Nan, and that had to be enough.

I’d just stopped in front of a group photo when Louise popped her head out of the kitchen and called, ‘Are you stalling?’ Shushing her, I beckoned her over and pointed to the photograph. It was a group of four people, dressed in black tie and grinning at the camera, the background a blur of people.

‘Who’s this with Aiden?’ I asked, pointing to a photo of Aiden and a beautiful blonde woman. From the looks of it, it couldn’t have been very old and by the look of sheer adoration in the woman’s eyes, I already knew I didn’t want to know who she was.

Louise stiffened next to me and, after a moment, let out a resigned sigh as she fixed her focus on the image. ‘That’s Bridget.’

‘Oh,’ I replied dumbly, I didn’t have any right to the jealousy that I’d felt when I’d first noticed the photo. But there was something about the way Aiden looked at her, like she was all he could and would ever see. That made my chest ache, and a touch of loneliness settled somewhere between my ribs.

‘Yeah,’ Louise said, her tone taking on a hard edge that I’d not heard from her before. She blew out a breath and forced a smile back to her face as she took a step back from the photo and moved to stand behind me. ‘Come on,’ she said, dropping her hands to my shoulders as she steered me to the kitchen. ‘I’m sure Dad’s dying to meet you.’

***

The kitchen was enormous, with high ceilings and two large French windows on either side of the hob, offering an unobstructed view of the neat garden beyond. The cupboards were all a soft creamy colour, in contrast to the dark mahogany floors.

‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’ asked a smiling man from his position at a six-seater mahogany wooden table near the middle of the kitchen. I closed my mouth, blinking away the stupefied expression I was sure had been firmly affixed to my face.

‘Morning, Dad.’ Louise breezed by and walked over to the far side of the kitchen, stopping by one of the various cupboards and pulling out two mismatched mugs. ‘Coffee, Charlotte?’

It was only then that I noticed the gleaming machine in the far corner of the room. I resolved right then and there that I would work hard to buy a big house—one that could provide a machine like that a proper home.

‘Yes, please.’ I moved over to the table and towards the smiling man. ‘You have a lovely home,’ I said, gesturing to the kitchen.

‘Thanks, it took well over a decade to get it to this point, but we like it.’ The man’s smile grew brighter, and he extended a hand across the table. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte.’

‘And you, Mr Walsh.’ I shook his hand, returning his smile.

‘Feel free to call me Tom,’ he said with an amiable smile. ‘Only my students call me Mr Walsh and I’m not on the clock.’

I nodded in acquiescence as a mug of steaming coffee was waved in front of my face. Accepting the coffee from Louise, I’d just taken my first sip when June entered the kitchen, her own mug firmly clasped in both hands. In the morning light, it was easy to see that Louise and her mum bore a much stronger resemblance than I’d previously thought. The only difference between them, aside from a few very faint laugh lines around June’s eyes, was their hair. Where Louise’s was a mix of blonde and pink, June Park’s ebony hair fell uniformly just past her shoulders. Once June had taken her seat beside him, Tom leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

‘Morning, Charlotte.’ June smiled at me from across the table, patting Tom’s hand affectionately. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ I nodded, my thoughts drifting to the room upstairs and to the man I’d left in it. Waking up was better. Stop it. I frowned into my mug. Louise pulled up the chair next to mine and sank into it, leaning forward onto her arms and closing her eyes.

‘Breakfast?’ Tom asked, using both hands to push himself up from his seat. ‘Toast? Eggs? Sausage?’

‘All of the above,’ Louise groaned into the table.

Tom gave a curt nod and, taking a large gulp of coffee, moved over to the double-door fridge, designed to look like the rest of the cupboards. ‘You’re on toast duty, Lou,’ he called over his shoulder as he loaded his arms with a carton of eggs, milk, bacon, tomatoes, and a pack of sausages. Pushing back from the table, I started to stand, only to be stopped by June’s outstretched hand.

‘You’re the guest.’

‘I’d like to help.’ My eyes trailed after Louise as she flung herself out of her chair and stomped towards the toaster.

‘You’re the guest,’ she repeated, a bit more sternly this time. ‘And besides,’ she leaned back in her chair, cradling her mug to her chest, ‘how can we get to know you if you’re hiding in a corner cracking eggs?’ Her knowing smile was oddly reminiscent of Louise’s own Cheshire-like grin, and I couldn’t help but smile at the resemblance.

The kitchen was soon humming with movement and easy conversation. Everyone was eager to hear all about my childhood, not probing too deeply when I mentioned that I’d been raised by Nan and only asking for more details on how she now terrorised her local council.

‘She’s terribly nosey,’ I said laughingly, ‘but her heart’s in the right place… I think.’

It was at that moment that Aiden stalked into the kitchen.

‘Oh dear,’ Tom whispered, eyeing his son, who was moving over to the coffee machine. ‘Prepare yourself.’ My eyes widened in surprise as I looked from Tom to Aiden. Aiden hadn’t said a word to anyone. In fact, he stood with his back to us all as he slowly drained his mug of coffee. My eyes fixed on his back, I wondered how today would go. If things would be better after our conversation—or if not better, at least more consistent. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I’d fallen asleep glad that I’d had the nerve to say something to him, but now—

‘My son is many things,’ June said softly, interrupting my thoughts, ‘but he is not a morning person.’ And then, raising her voice, ‘Aiden, is coffee more important than your Charlotte?’ I didn’t miss the emphasis she’d put on “your Charlotte,” and, from the way every pair of eyes in the room turned to me, no one else had either.

I waved awkwardly at Aiden from across the room. His mouth tilted into a small smile, his gaze fixed on my hand that I’d failed to lower and now hovered stupidly in the air. Cheeks warmed with embarrassment, I dropped my hand and reached for my mug, bringing it to my lips to take a sip and tilting the cup up so that I wouldn’t have to see Aiden’s laughing eyes. It was only when the mug was fully tilted that I realised it was empty.

‘Aiden,’ June called over to the kitchen corner, her almond eyes fixed knowingly on me. I could not catch a break. ‘Charlotte needs a top up.’

I set the mug down on the table and felt, more than saw, Aiden move to stand behind me. Reaching over my shoulder, he refilled my mug, pressing a barely-there kiss to the top of my head.

‘Morning, Cupcake,’ he said, his voice still gravely and thick with sleep.

‘M-morning,’ I stuttered, turning to watch him as he made his way back to the espresso machine. He’d changed back into his suit trousers, pairing it with a light blue jumper that looked incredibly soft. A throat cleared softly from across the table and I turned to find June watching me. Her face split into that Louise-like grin.

‘Alright, alright,’ Tom called from his spot at the hob, ‘how do people want their eggs?’